


hot hot as tater tot

by Mystical



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Daddy Kink, F/M, Handcuffs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Denial, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Toys, Vibrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical/pseuds/Mystical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>throws porn at you and runs away</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. johndaaaave

“It feels weird.”

“You’re not relaxing.” You move the vibe in him and he’s squeezed so tight it doesn’t budge. “John, unclench your ass.”

He flinches under you. “Don’t call it that.”

“Anal sphincter.”

“Dave.”

“Chocolate starfish.”

“Dave.”

“Open up the abyss into your Mariana’s Trench.”

“Jesus fuck.”

“I just want to probe you with my oil rig.”

“Dave, stop.” He’s laughing, relaxing around you and you thrust, turning his laugh into a moan.

“You love it when I talk dirty to you.” You flick the switch and turn on the oscillations, watching him the whole time and he gasps and tightens around you but it’s good, his reaction is good this time. You thrust again and he moans, loud and sweet.

“Your dirty talk is the worst,” he gasps as you move again. “I don’t, nn, don’t know why I- _fuck._ ”

Found it.

You grin and thrust again. “Don’t know what?” you ask as you rub circles over the spot, and he’s jerking, grasping the covers, moaning over and over again and fuck. Fuck you didn’t know he was this sensitive, this responsive. (you knew this was a good idea)

“Look at you, you love it, you little cockslut.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dave,” he forces out, high and breathless. “Oh-oh, shit, shit, there, there, oh my god, Dave-“

He covers his mouth with both hands as his body spasms, and you viciously drag the vibe against that spot over and over again. God, and he loves this – more than loves this as you see his dick twitch and spurt, strings of white jizz landing on his stomach.

You still and look at him. He’s gasping in the aftershocks of his orgasm, chest heaving and ass tight but not too tight that you can’t move. You brush your knuckles over his dick and he’s still hard. “Dude.”

“What?” You knew it was intended to come out annoyed but he’s too breathless for it to be anything but needy. You squeeze him in your hand and he moans, arching into your touch.

“You just came. Jesus.” You squeeze it again and move the vibe and he whimpers, grasping the sheets. “Do you even have a refractory period? Were you one of those nerds who did endurance exercises in middle school? I’m not talking about gym, I’m talking about your dick. You’re insatiable.” At this point you’re dragging the vibe over his prostate again and again and he’s already getting close, thumbing his nipples and gasping, arching into your touch as you squeeze his dick and assault his ass. “Egbert, what kind of monster are you?”

“Shut up,” he’s gasping. “Shut up, Dave, oh my god, you never stop talking, just – just shut u-  _aah, fuck, fuck,”_

and there he goes again, shooting all over his chest and your hand. Gross. You wipe yourself on his stomach, and, smirking, don’t bother leaving him be this time, continuing his relentless assault on his ass and he’s gasping and cursing under you but you don’t stop. “Nope,” you say. “You’re so fucking greedy.”

“What, hnn, what are you even,  _fuck_ , even t-trying to d-do heeeere ah fuck, Dave, there, there, there-“

“Wanna see how much you can cum,” you say. “Gonna make you cum dry. Milk the Amazon of your dick teat until it becomes the Sahara Desert.”

He tries to laugh and you turn it into a moan. “Dave, you’re not even making seee _eeeense_ ,  _fuuuuck._ ”

You retaliate by upping your offense, pressing harder against him. “What if I just turn it up,” you murmur. “Turn it up all the way and press it here,” you shove against his prostate and he keens, “And see how many times you cum.” He shudders and cries out when you roughly jolt the toy. “Bet you’d love that. Look at you, you came twice and you’re still begging for more.”

“Please, Dave, I can’t-“

“Yeah?” You rub circles into his hip and he’s beautiful, arching and gasping under you. He gives off a particularly loud moan and slaps his hands over his mouth again, face red, and you still.

“Dave!” his hips shift, chasing the toy that you pull out and you tsk, shaking your head. “Please, please, you fucking ass, I was so close.”

“You won’t die if you don’t cum within the next minute, relax.” You reach under the bed, pull out a girly, sequined red scarf that Rose gave you for your 15th birthday, and move toward John. “Arms up.”

He groans and obediently loops his arms behind the headboard, in the bottom area where it’s smooth and won’t chafe. “Why that one?” he grumbles, motioning at the scarf.

“Don’t be like that, you love Calpernicus.”

“Dave.”

“John.”

“Dave, you named your bondage scarf Calpernicus.”

“Give the man a medal.” You pull on the knots to make sure they’re secure before sliding down his body.

He glares at you. “I’m never getting aroused in that.”

“Not what your dick is saying.” You sqeeze him and hips stutter. “See? Point proven.”

“Jesus fuck, Dave, just touch me already!”

You oblige, sliding the vibe in him again and this time you just. You just hold it there, hold it against his prostate.

“Fuck!” He squirms, toes curling and he’s close again, you can feel it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Dave,  _move-“_

You grin at him. “Nope. Not moving until you beg for it.”

“Will you just-“

“Come on, Egbert.” You give a particularly hard thrust and he sobs, arms going slack, hips arching. “You’ve already done it today. Make daddy proud.”

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers as his dick twitches. “Oh, oh fuck, fuck,  _fuck,”_  and he  _screams_  as he comes, unmuffled by his hands. This time it’s not much, barely a few drops but that doesn’t make it any less intense. He clenches around you as his spent dick tries to perform and dribbles onto his stomach. “Dave- Dave, I, aah, stop, stop it you fucknut, I’m sensitive right now, _jesus-“_

You don’t stop and drag it over his abused prostate again, making him jerk and try to close his legs. “I know you have a few more in you.”

And you’re right, he’s already hardening. You lean down until your lips brush his ear. “I said I’ll milk you dry. Said I’ll keep abusing your ass until you can’t cum anymore, until your stomach is splattered in spunk. Make you scream so much you’re hoarse.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers out. “Dave, I-“

“You’re still talking,” you point out and turn the vibe to its highest setting, pressing it against his hotspot, holding his hips down with your hand and he’s straining against his bonds, legs twisting in the covers and he’s beautiful, so beautiful like this, mouth open and wet and inviting.

You crush his lips to yours, slip your tongue into his mouth and all he can do is take as he pants against you. “Please, please, please,” he whimpers, “Please please please please Dave oh god oh god fuck fuck-“

You take your lips away and suck hickies into his skin. “Come on, lemme hear you, tell me how good it feels.”

“Oh, oh fuck, shit, I- Dave, please, please, shit, Dave,  _Dave,_ ” and he cums dry, screaming your name.

You press him through his orgasm and turn the vibe off, taking it out and throwing it somewhere before frantically shoving your boxers down and fisting your cock. John’s spread on the bed, panting and sweaty and covered in cum and he looks at you and licks his lips and fuck. You’re done, you’re done, and you groan when you finally cum over his stomach, your spunk mixing in with his.

Shaky fingers reach up and untie him, and his arms fall limp to his sides. “Asshole,” he says.

“You loved it.”

“My dick hurts.” He flicks you on the temple. “I’m taking the shower first.”

“No fair.”

“You’re falling asleep.”

“How the fuck are you still awake after cumming four times.”

He rolls his eyes as he swings off the bed. “It’s because I’m not a delicate flower, Dave.”

You halfheartedly aim a punch at him and miss. “I’m not a delicate flower,” you mumble, already drifting off to sleep. “You’re just. Not human. A sex machine from the future come to torment my dick.”

“Whatever, assbutt.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Goodnight, sleeping beauty.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Just sleep already, jesus.” The bathroom door clicks shut.


	2. JohnDave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> john domming the fuck out of dave  
> [vibrator, orgasm denial, blowjob]

“Faster,” he tells you.

You groan and fuck him, fuck him fuck him you’re already at your limit you can’t go faster, you can’t you can’t if you do you’ll blow-

“Dave,” he says, and you shudder at his voice. Shit, he’s good at this, way too good at playing the dom role. He looks like a king, seated on his ratty computer chair and you feel so small on his bed. You’re shivering as you thrust the vibrator faster inside you, biting your lip to hold back your orgasm and fuck, fuck it’s so big and it brushes your prostate with every thrust and

“Please,” you gasp, looking at his eyes, trying to get across how ridiculously turned on you are, how hard you are, how you need to cum, you  _need_  to or else you’ll die, you’ll die and implode  _fuck_  his fingers flick across the remote and the vibrations increase. “John, fuck, fuck,  _fuck.”_ The arm that was supporting you collapses and you dig your fingers into the mattress, bite into the sheets because it feels so  _good_  and shit, shit, you can’t hold back, “I can’t, John, please, please-“

“Stop,” he tells you, and the vibrations abruptly cease and you moan in half relief, half disappointment when you slide the vibe out and gaze at him with hazy eyes. You’re hard, so aching hard, and your knee brushes against one of the many puddles of precum on the mattress. He tilts his head, smiles and – and shit, he’s pressing against the lump in his pants, fingers gliding up, down, up, down, before flicking open the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper. Your dick twitches beneath you and you whimper, fuck him, fuck him fuck him why is he so good at this and he moans and  _fuck_  you can come from this, you can come from just this and you won’t even have to be touched and he knows it, he knows, fuck him.

(god you love him you love him you love him he knows just what to do and how far to push)

He doesn’t bother teasing himself, just shoves his pants and his boxers down and a part of you is glad that he’s so impatient. Means you’ve put on a good show, means you’ve affected him as much as he’s affected you. The rest of you is too busy staring at his cock, wanting it live in your ass, your mouth. He’s fisting it with one hand, squeezing his balls with the other and you want to touch him, fuck you want to touch him so bad, you want to be the one coaxing those noises out of his mouth.

You want him to touch  _you._  You want him to push you into the mattress with his weight, you want his hands on you, on you everywhere, you want him to tell you to hold it, you want him to force you to do his bidding and fuck, a surge goes through your groin and you dig your fingers into the mattress, dig your teeth into your bottom lip to try and ground yourself and you don’t remember closing your eyes, you don’t remember him getting up from his seat but suddenly there’s a hand in your hair. “Open,” he growls and he sounds so possessive and in control and you just.

You open your eyes with a desperate whine. There’s a dick in front of your face. There’s John’s dick in front of your face and you’re trembling with the effort of holding back from licking it, taking it in your mouth, sucking the whole thing in until it hits the back of your throat, gagging on his cock oh god. You look up at his face, shaking and panting and you want to beg –  _please please let me suck you let me get you off fuck me tell me what to do touch me please please please_  – but try as you might, the only things coming out of your mouth are moans and whimpers and you want to  _touch him_  you want to touch him so bad.

Your hands shake as you try to not touch yourself, and he appraises you for a few long seconds before touching your bottom lip. “Open up.” His voice is soft but you hear it as if he screamed it right next to your ear, and with a relieved moan you lick the precum off his cock. His hand tightens in your hair. “Don’t tease,” he growls and you feel a small twinge of pride –  _you did this to him_  – before it’s washed away with a bigger wave of arousal.

You whine as you sink down on his monster of a dick, and he tastes so good, salty and musky and rich and fuck you can get off on this alone,  _fuck_  and he feels so good in your mouth, scraping against your hard, then soft palate, filling you up, pressing against your tongue and your throat. You feel him harden and it only encourages you to suck more fervently. The hand in your hair is a vice grip, holding you in place and you tighten your mouth, oh, you’ll gladly swallow, you’ll swallow every drop, you’re nothing but a cumdumpster, his little plaything.

He comes in thick spurts, jet after jet sliding down your throat and holds you in place until he’s finished. The grip in your hair loosens and you slide off with a gasp, lips open and panting, pupils blown wide in lust. “Please,” you manage to force out, finally finding your missing words. “Please, please, John, fuck,  _please-“_

He fumbles for the vibe, and you’re panting, gripping the sheet with knuckle-white hands. “Turn around,” he orders, uncapping a bottle of lube and coating it again. You do as he says and he wastes no time sliding it in, making you whine and bury your face into the mattress, feeling it’s smooth glide against your inner walls and he hasn’t even turned it on yet and you can cum right now.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you pant, and then, ”Fuck,  _fuck,_  right there, right-“

You  _scream_  when it buzzes to life at its highest setting and it’s digging right into your prostate and he’s killing you, he’s killing you here and you’re  _so_  hard and you need to cum, you have to, “John,” you gasp, “ _John, please, I can’t, I can’t-“_

“No,” he says, and you’re sobbing, tears running down your face because you  _need_  to, you need to you need to it feels so good it’s too much too much.

“Please,” you’re chanting. “Please, please, I can’t, I can’t, John, please,  _I can’t-_ “

He’s shifting it, rubbing it right over your prostate and you bite into your arm to stop yourself, to hold back – but it feels good, it feels so good, too good, you can’t hold back, you can’t and you want to beg, fuck you want to beg you want to plead please let me cum please let me please please but you can’t, your words fled again and-

“Now,” he says and you lose it, mouth open in a silent scream as you convulse and come, and come, and come, and he’s still holding the vibe inside you, still digging it into your prostate and it’s too much, too much too much and you sob as your dick twitches again, spurts more onto the bedspread and it’s so much more intense than the first and you’re crying, soft sobs wracking your frame and he’s  _still pumping,_  milking you for all you’re worth and it feels so good and it’s too much, too much and not enough –

It seems to take forever for you to come down from your high, and when you do you collapse onto the mattress, belly squelching as it lands on the mess below, ew. There’s a hand combing your hair from your face and you instinctively nuzzle into it, but it leaves as soon as it came and you whine at the loss.

Someone chuckles to your left and you blearily roll your head to see John walking toward you with a tissue. “Roll over, dude.” There’s a hand on your hip, a guiding light, something for you to focus on as you automatically do what you’re told. He wipes down your stomach and attempts to clean up the mess on the bed too before giving up and sliding in beside you. He runs his fingers through your hair and you cling to him, cling to him like he’s your lifeline.

(because he is, he is he is and you need him, you really do)

You stay like that for (three minutes, forty-two seconds) a few minutes before he shifts and places a soft kiss on your forehead. “Good?” he asks.

“Nngh.”

He laughs, that bastard, and you would hit him if your arms weren’t made of jelly and if you weren’t drifting in subspace. “Get up, you lazy ass. We need to shower. Especially you,” he adds, looking distastefully at your stomach.

Showering means getting up. You don’t want to get up. You shake your head. “Sleep,” you say stubbornly, clutching at his shoulders.

“Gross, dude.” He stays anyway, and you smile and fall asleep to his gentle breathing.


	3. More fucking johndave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for tumblr nsfw-davejohn's birthday  
> my gillfrond owns that blog and she told me to write porn for it's birthday like a month ago i had to do it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll write something other than johndave someday

“Dave,” he says, and he’s pliant and submissive under you and you love him you love him wow you love him so much too much.

His eyes flutter behind his blindfold when you trail your fingers over his cheek, and he instinctively turns into your touch, whining when you take your hand away. You feel sort of bad about blindfolding him, you love his eyes, there’s no purer blue out there but you know he loves his and you love the fact he trusts you enough to want to be completely incapitated under your hands.

“Patience,” you reply. “Patience is a virtue.”

“It’s a virtuous waste of time.” He tugs at his bonds, face turning toward your general direction. “Touch me.”

Eyebrow arch. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

What a fucking brat. “Who’s the dom here again?” He shudders when you smooth your hands down his legs, lingering at his crotch before framing his hips, moving down to squeeze his ass and oh, he likes that, likes being reminded that you have this much power, this much control over him. “Know your place.” The words feel foreign on your tongue and you can’t help but feel you stepped out of a cheap porno but he shudders again and opens his mouth in a plaintive whine.

He scowls when you stop touching him. “Daaaaaaaaaave.”

“Just wait, jesus Egbert you really do have no patience do you, how the fuck have you managed to make it this far in life already, your mom probably had to shove you back into her vagina when you tried crawling out at five months. ‘But mama,’ you said, ‘I want to be born now.’ ‘No you little shit,’ she replied, ‘wait your goddamn turn.’” As you say this you’re rummaging underneath your bed, where is it where is it where is it you swore you saw it two days ago – aha. Your fingers close around the cool metal and you resurface.

He scowls. “I was born late, you asshole.”

You chuckle. “S’that why you’re so impatient? Trying to hurry everything else to make up for your delayed birth.”

“Stop hanging around Rose.”

“Rose would have a field day with this.” You grab his feet and slide it into one of the shackles of the spreader bar and to his credit, he only flinches a little.

“I sincerely doubt the timing of my birth affects the way I think, dude.”

You slide the other foot in and would you look at that, he’s swelling already. “Freud says otherwise.” You actually don’t know who Freud is or what he’s done but he’s some kind of brain psychologist thing so close enough. He swallows when you slide the bar up over his legs, resting at his thighs. “This okay?” You ask, voice quieter, softer.

He bites his lips and gingerly tries to close his legs. “Yeah.” Voice thick, skin flushed and jesus he’s already so affected and you’ve barely even touched him.

You circle a nipple and flick the hardened nub of flesh, and he cries out and jerks against his bonds. That. Wow. He’s almost completely immobile under you and you can do  _anything_  to him and he can’t do anything to stop you.

(except safewording, consent is sexy and all and you’d stop immediately if it became too much for him)

You stop and he whines again, lips parted in needy pants and wow he looks gorgeous like this, restrained and unmarred except for the faded bruises from previous sessions. You press into the pale pink of a week old hickey and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “Wow.” You drag your nails down his chest, his stomach and he arches up into your touch and it’s harder to mar his darker skin but that only means you need to try harder and you wonder how he looks with lines of red seeping from his chest and his back and they mark him show him to be yours yours yours

you bite down on his chest and hear his delighted gasp. “Daaave, fuck,” and you move down, down down down until his cock brushes your chin.

“You’re such a little slut, Egbert.” You rub your thumb over the head of his dick, spreading the precum and he whines again, god you love that sound. “Look at how much you need me.”

“Shut up and suck my cock already, dickbag,” he gasps out.

“Who said I’ll be doing any cocksucking.”

He furrows his brows and cants his hips up. “Are we going to go through this every time? Just do it Dave please I’m so hard please please oh my god,” and he dissolves into breathy pleads when you mouth at his balls, letting your hot breath wash over them but never touching them.  “Fuck you Dave stop teasing please I need it Dave Dave  _Dave-_ “

You sink your mouth over the head of his dick and he gasps and moans obscenely loud and fuck. You unzip your jeans, moaning when the constricting pressure is off your dick and he cries out at the vibrations in your throat. You can’t take him all the way to the base quite yet because he’s fucking huge but you take as much of him as you can before purposely gagging, choking the head of his dick in a circle of wet heat and he loves it he loves it – “Dave  _fuck fuck please I’m so close-_ “

You pull off and hold down his hips and he wails, trying to nudge his hips up. “Dave!” He would be glaring at you if he didn’t have his blindfold on and you can’t help but laugh.

“Relax, dude, you won’t die if you don’t jizz within the next twenty seconds.”

“Yes I will!” He leans back with a frustrated groan and you can see the muscles in his arms straining under the rope. (you also know he can break out anytime he wants; rope isn’t close to enough to holding down John Egbert.)  “You’re killing me, Dave. How does that make you feel.”

“Death from blue balls.” You move up, tilt his head back and he goes rigid and still, lips parted and throat working in a swallow. Your other hand comes up, traces around his trembling lips and he lets out a quiet whine but he’s not moving, good boy, such a good boy.

“If you really want to come that much,” you purr, “then beg for it.” And you sink three fingers into his mouth, holding down his tongue and inching toward the back of his throat.

He whines around your fingers and you can feel his frustration written along every line of his body but he loves it he loves this. “I don’t hear any begging.” His whines become louder as his feet scrabble against the bed, legs unable to open, unable to close and you know what he’ll say if he could;  _dave dave I need it please please please please please dave dave touch me touch me I need to come I’m so close dave dave fuck_

“I’m surprised. You were so eager a few seconds ago.” Your fingers press deeper and he fervently sucks, darting his tongue around your digits and trying to form words but you keep catching them and pressing them back into his throat. “Make up your mind, Egbert.” You can’t help but tease him when he’s this desperate and this eager to please and even now he’s trying to carry out your impossible orders.

And he’s desperate, so desperate as he twists under you, trying to find friction, any kind of friction but you’re hovering over him and only touching him where your fingers are in his mouth and he’s tied up with legs spread and rendered almost entirely immobile and he whines again, this time close to a sob and you decide to take pity on him, sliding your fingers out of his mouth.

“Please Dave please please,” he gasps. “Oh my god Dave you asshole touch me I swear I’ll do whatever you want just touch me  _touch me_  I need to cum I have to I need to I’m so close Dave touch me touch me-“ and groans when you do, barely a brush of your fingers down his dick. “Dave,” and you take him with your slicked fingers, “ _Dave,”_  and he comes with a soundless scream, hips squirming under your hands, holy shit that’s adorable as fuck.

You shove your pants down your legs and grip your dick, squeezing it in your hands. You were about to let him recuperate for a while but you’re so hard and he’s so hot and you need to get off, goddamn. You crawl up and nudge his mouth with your dick. “Open up.”

And Egbert, bless his soul, parts his lips even though he must be tired as fuck and welcomes your cock with a soft hum, tilting his head and swallowing it all the way to the base oh god. It doesn’t take long for you to come and he swallows every drop, good boy, such a good boy.

You don’t realize you’re saying it until he scoffs and tugs at his restraints again. “Untie me, facefucker.”

“Dave Strider not connecting, please try again later.”

He narrows his eyes. “You little shit.” But still he manages to squirm around until he finds the end of the rope, tugging the knot loose and sliding his hands free. You liquidly slide yourself until you’re at his legs and somehow manages to slide the spreader bar loose and toss it to the floor before worming yourself into his side. He pats you once before his arms fall limp at his sides.

“My arms are numb,” he tells you.

“Sorry.”

“Dave, I’m still blindfolded and my arms are numb.”

Oh. Right. Oops. You move up, untying the blindfold and throwing the cloth away before going back to your place by his side. He’s taller than you and it’s easy to fold your body to his ribs, his hips, his legs. After a while he starts stroking your hair and you’re almost asleep when he speaks up.

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to go into subspace after.” His tone isn’t accusatory, only humorous.

You mumble against his chest. “I’m not in subspace.” Pause. “I’m in. Like. Domspace or something.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You can  _feel_  him rolling his eyes.

“You’re a very demanding sub.”

“Am not.” But he bundles you into his arms and keeps petting your hair and this time when your eyes drift close you’re lulled to sleep by his soft breathing.


	4. Roxy/Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> roxy you're such a little shit

You smile down and his everything flexes under you, stomach muscles rippling and tensing beneath your hands. His dick _jumps_ in you when you dig pink nails into his skin and you let out a delighted squeal.

His arm shakes as he struggles to not pull against the headboard – not like it’ll accomplish anything, considering his wrists are bound in pink fuzzy handcuffs (gaudy, he’d said, “You seriously want to put that shit on me.” well look who’s laughing now, mister grouchy no fun robobrain)

(he looks good wearing your colour)

“Soooooo,” you drawl out, sitting back and just. Look at him, black-painted lips curving in a minute smile. You don’t miss the way his throat bobs in a swallow as the shift in weight makes you swallow him deeper. Ew, ew, wrong choice of wording, now you can’t get the image of your vagina literally eating him out of your head.

You frown and sip the martini clutched in your other hand, the hand that’s not holding him down. It’s hard being a genius with an overactive imagination, it’s hard and no one understands. Well. Except for the person you’re currently fucking. Fucking? Fucking you? Who cares, you never were one for vernacular.

He’s frowning as he studies you from behind his lame-o pointed shades. You smile back, take another sip and he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Roxy,” he says. “Move.”

“Nope!” You chirp cheerfully, sipping your martini again. He lets out a frustrated groan and the muscles in his hips twitch as he tries to thrust into you but you’re sitting on his legs and he can’t move. “Ah-ah, Di-stri,” you chide. “You can’t rush a lady!” you frown at him to prove your point and take another sip of your drink.

He eyes you pensively. “You’re not planning to make me wait until you finish that.”

“Ooh!” You light up and he groans.

“That is not a thing I should have said.”

Pretending to ignore him, you settle further back and he’s pretty much writhing in frustration. As much as he _can_ writhe in his current state, which is not much. “Weeeeell. No, but since you asked so nicely…”

He lets out a defeated groan. “I don’t know if I hate you or myself more.”


	5. JohnDave - Daddy Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "i'm so mad there are like no fics with john calling dave daddy"  
> cue me flying to the rescue. I am such a benevolent person, why have I not been awarded sainthood already.  
> also I'm slightly drunk and I haven't read over this so excuse any disparities.

He’s 6’4” and completely immobile under you, wrists tied to the headboard with flexible red rope (he’s wearing your colour) and he can probably squirm free with his +100 dexterity bonus but he doesn’t try, he wants this as much as you do and your dick is so hard it can probably karate chop six blocks of titanium.

“Good boy,” you murmur and he whines around your fingers as you grind your ass back against the turgid meat sword pressed against your jeans. It has to chafe his naked dick. He doesn’t seem to care, judging by the way he glares at you as if to say “get on with it already, shitlord.”

It’s amazing how sarcastic he is even when you’re the one in power.

“Wow, okay, I take that back.” He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Okay, no, listen you little shit,” you start, frowning. Your free hand trails down, presses into the purple bruises littered over his neck before finding a nipple and twisting. He’s not as sensitive here as you are but still he arches under you, teeth clamping down just shy of painful on your fingers. “I think you’re forgetting who runs the show here.”

He whines. It sounds more like a petulant child whining to get his way than a whine of submission or desperation but whatever. You’ll take it. “Ready to behave?” You ask, and he nods, blues eyes wide and desperate behind those ridiculously attractive square frames that he refuses to take off even during the middle of sex. You’re not any better, you suppose, keeping your shades on even though it’s evening and his window shades are drawn, but it’s more out of habit than anything else.

Besides, with your shades on it’s harder for him to see where you’re looking, harder to predict your moves. It gives you an advantage, especially since you’re the one in charge this time.

“Maybe I should actually gag you,” you murmur as you clumsily unbutton your pants with one hand, sucking in a sharp breath as the zipper rasps down your throbbing spooge cannon. You _feel_ the whole-body shiver that washes down his spine. “Nah, you’ll enjoy it too much.”

(that’s the point and you both know it. even when you’re in power, you’re under his thrall, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.)

You have to take your fingers out of his mouth in order to prep him, and his tongue licks out after you, as if begging for them back, fuck, and he says you’re the one with the insatiable oral fixation (even though it’s true). “Slut,” you say and you feel his entire body seize, tense before it relaxes in one big exhale.

He’s miraculously silent as you lube up your fingers and circle his entrance. Fuck, and he opens up so easily for you, he must’ve fucked himself before you came, prepped himself so he opens up easier for you and you groan at the thought. When you press his stomach down, drag your fingers over that spot you’ve memorized and can probably find in your sleep (and have found while half-asleep, hazy morning sex with his hair haloed by golden rays), he lets out this exquisite groan and his shoulders flex. If he had his hands free, he would be scratching eight perfect marks down your back and fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You’ve prepped yourself.” It was a statement, not a question. Still he nods eagerly, his eyes zoning in on your dick. “Wow, Egbert, are you that eager to have my dick in you?” You give him a smarmy grin.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

You freeze. He never says it so directly, always skirts around the topic, cheeks turning tomato red even when you’ve got your dick all up in him and making him squirm and whimper and whisper your name. Not like you’re one to talk; you’re pretty much the same, talking about it only through euphemisms and similes, never calling a dick a dick. Even when you’re talking to him in the heat of the moment, it’s still hard for you to actually say it. It’s different when it’s someone else; when you’re whispering filthy words in his ear, when you’re focused on him, on what gets him off. But when you talk about yourself, when you have ~actual serious discussions~ the filter between your brain and your mouth always seems to either trip over your words or disappear when you need it the most.

“Aye aye, sir.” You drizzle cold lube over your dick, hold his hips down with one hand (not like it’ll be able to stop him, he can bench-press you. you know from experience. drunk bet) as you position yourself. “Ready for the Strider inquisition?”

“Why do I put up with you.”

“Because I fuck you so good you keep crawling back for more even when you’re limping for three weeks?” You grin and start to feed yourself in, and his retort is swallowed by a loud moan. Fuck, he likes this, he likes this so much, even now you’re blown away by how much he enjoys having dick up his ass. “Or maybe it’s not me who fucks you good,” you continue, fighting to keep your voice casual. “Look at you, moaning like a bitch in heat—I bet you’d spread your leg for anyone who asks, won’t you?”

He shudders under you. You feel sort of ridiculous, spewing all these porno lines but he likes it—really likes it, judging by the way he clenches around you. “Fuck,” you breathe, grabbing his hips, sliding out and back in and his mouth slowly falls open.

“Daddy—please,” he whimpers and you curse again. Fuck fuck fuck he _knows_ how much that gets to you and you throb, he’s got to feel that because he wriggles his ass, grinding against you as if that’d make you go faster.

“What was that?” You ask, voice low, grabbing his hips, purposely not moving and he lets out this desperate little whimper.

“Fuck me—fuck me, daddy, I—“ you’ve barely even moved and he’s already this desperate, this undone. Once again, you pray to every deity you know of, thanking them for John and his oversensitive prostate.

You won’t be far behind with him begging like this.

He wails when you grab his legs and push them as far back as they’ll go—he’s not as flexible as you but still, it gives you more than enough room to move, in and out and in and out and you groan as you bury yourself over and over again in his tight dry heat, as he swallows your dick down, welcomes you, invites you to fuck him. “Daddy,” he’s chanting. “Daddy, daddy, please, daddy I-“

“That’s right,” you murmur, “Daddy’ll fuck you nice and good.” You don’t even care how ridiculous you sound because it feels so _good,_ he feels so good, and god the way he clenches when you bite another bruise onto his neck.

Your hands slide down his thighs, grab his hips as you up your ante and he’s screaming as he wraps his legs around you. “Dave,” he moans. “Dave, I—“ and he barely gives any warning as he shudders and white spurts out his cock, as he clenches around you so tight you can barely move, fuck and he’s coming so hard it’s hitting his chin, shit, shit, shit. Your fingers tighten on his hips, dark bruises blooming under his brown skin and he’s got to be oversensitive as fuck but he doesn’t utter one complaint, bless his soul, only whimpers quietly as you continue to hammer into him and groans when you finish.

A thin dribble of white follows you when you pull out. It’s sort of gross, but he likes it, judging by the way he whimpers and shifts. It is sort of appealing, you guess, in the ‘this is mine and I’m marking you’ way. Even so, you much prefer the bruises spotting his skin.

You press one on his pecs, and he hisses in discomfort. “Dave, that hurts, you asshole.”

“Sorry.” You’re grinning as you say it, pressing a quick, chaste kiss against his lips as you untie his arms. He immediately pulls you down against him, and you grimace as lukewarm jizz squishes against both your abs.

“Next time,” you murmur, “I’m gonna put a cockring on you and plug my jizz in you when I pull out.”

“Gross.” He says, then, “Why am I turned on by that?” Too fuck-dazed to have a filter between his brain and his mouth, like you. Not too far gone to not be embarrassed, apparently, as his face darkens and he averts his eyes.

“Cause you’re fucked up.” That’s okay, because so are you. You peck him on the lips again, snuggle into his neck, and breathe in the gross scent of his sweat and jizz as you drift off.

(when you wake up an hour later to the sound of his dinosaur snoring, you find yourself glued to him by your stomach, and try as you might he stubbornly remains firmly in dreamland. you resign yourself to your fate of being permanently glued to him like an angler fish. soon, your only function will be to provide genetic material for his weirdass mpreg ass babies. thanks for nothing, john.)


	6. JohnDave - blowjobs, public sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fuckin egg: john makes a game of getting him off in public places and seeing him struggle to be quiet  
> Rafi: Yessss.  
> Rafi: Teasing him under tables at dinner, taking him back somewhere quieter and getting his cock down his throat  
> Rafi: "The second you make too much noise, I'm stopping"
> 
> and then this happened
> 
> (unedited and written while riding high off of too much sleep after too much sleep deprivation)

No no no no no why is he stopping.

Blue eyes peer at you over glasses so thick that they probably wouldn’t break if you punched them, which you’re tempted to do because it felt so _good_ and he’s not there anymore and you squirm as cold air hits your spit-slick dick. _John,_ you want to say. _John, what the fuck,_ but…

“I told you, Dave,” he says quietly, “no sounds.” Even as he says that, you feel his warm breath against your thigh, so close to your dick, and you hadn’t even noticed you’d made a noise but you must have for him to stop. You want to beg, you want to plead, you want to touch yourself and just fucking get off already. Instead, you tug his hair when he drags his teeth up his thigh and your hips stutter when he bites you in retaliation.

His dorky chuckle shouldn’t be as hot as it is but it _is._ Everything’s hot right now, his breath on your leg, his hands holding down your hip, your breath and your _dick_ , hot and hard and pulsing and just aching to be in his mouth again.

You hear his dad making breakfast in the next room, and even that’s not enough to make your dick wilt. Soon, you know the smell of food would attract the rest of your cohort out of their nest. No one can resist Egbert senior’s pancakes. No one. And if you don’t get off before then…

Vacationing together at the Lalonde house initially seemed like a good idea, but for some fucking reason you’d neglected to realize it’d give John more excuses to do… this. This thing, right here, where he takes your dick down his throat somewhere public and it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t stop whenever you made a sound. Which is torturous because you’re vocal. Very vocal. It’s like your signature move. You suspect this is why John does this so much. You _know_ this is why John does this so much.

He’s not stopping out of fear of being caught, that’s for sure. Not even from his own father. Kinky fuck. “Shoosh, Dave,” he says mockingly, hands rubbing circles into your hip, a faux pantomime of a reassuring gesture. “I’m looking out for you. I don’t want to get us caught. Can you imagine if someone walked in on us with your cock down my throat?” You bite your lip so hard it bleeds at the thought, even though half the people in this house are related to you.

What a dirty filthy liar. It’s not fear of getting caught that’s stopping him; he’s grinning as he stares up at you, and you’re panting, gasping even though he’s barely touching you right now. Words live and rise and die on your tongue; god you want to beg him to get you off until your voice cracks, until he silences you by pressing his fingers into your mouth or encourages you by asking for more with his words and his hands and his mouth, that sinfully dextrous mouth that’s way too good at unraveling you, at turning you into goo willing to do whatever he says.

Instead, you tilt your hip toward you, flushed cock bobbing against your stomach, and give him the most wanton, desperate stare you can muster. It doesn’t take much effort. You’re so hard it hurts, and you ache to touch yourself but he’ll just bat your hands away. Besides, you want him to get you off. It feels like cheating if you touch yourself without his permission, and this is a game you’re determined to win.

“Will you behave?” he asks and you nod, nod again, anything to get his mouth back on your dick. You inhale a sharp breath that threatens to break into a whine when he immediately sinks over you with no warning, without giving you a chance to recover; god his mouth is perfect, encasing you in soft wet heat and his _tongue,_ his talented fucking prehensile tongue sliding against your cock, stroking you just right in just the right places. You tug on his hair like you want to rip it straight out of his skull and the hands on your hips tighten into vices trying to dig through skin and bone. You can’t wait until the bruises form.

You can’t look at him because you have to stay quiet and you’ll let out the pornographic slew of words running through your head if you look at him, if you look at the way his lips stretch across your dick as he bobs up and down, up and down. He has to know, somehow, has to know that your eyes are closed even behind your shades because he draws back until he’s sucking on just the head and his tongue—his fucking tongue—swirls around you before.

Before it dips into your oozing slit and you take the hand that was gripping his hair and slap it over your mouth and that was a mistake because the hand was in his fucking hair and his scent assaults you, buries into your nose and buys a farm and finds a wife and has two kids and raises a family. You can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes when you nut down his throat.

He immediately pulls himself away from you. “I told you to behave,” he says, voice stern.

A shiver races down your spine and ends at your groin even though you literally just came. “I’ll make it up to you,” you promise. When he stands, there’s a very noticeable lump in his pants, and you grin. “In fact, I can think of a way or two to make it up to you right now.”

(even with his dick down your throat you still can’t manage total silence, but judging by the way he face-fucks you until your lips are red and swollen, this time he doesn’t mind one bit)


End file.
